Brooke and I slept together twice before the topic of marriage was broached. I am unquestionably under endowed, slightly under four and a half inches when fully erect (on a good day). Standing 5'9" tall, with thick, black hair, I was somewhat overweight and certainly out of shape at the time (that has since improved), but I don't believe that I was considered to be especially unattractive. Having observed my classmates in the high school locker room, however, I knew where I fell short-- quite literally. To be honest, both length and girth were issues; I believe my penis is what some disparagingly refer to as a gherkin. Probably the most vexing of my many physical deficiencies, this attribute was a primary cause of my intense awkwardness and self consciousness around attractive women. Who knows, perhaps it was one of the root causes of my masochism; at a minimum, it solidified it.
It was painfully obvious that Brooke was left totally unsatisfied by my clumsy and inadequate attempts at vaginal penetration. She made no attempt to fake it, and I probably wouldn't have believed her if she had tried. Fortunately, I had avidly studied various how to books for pleasuring a woman orally (the two best being, She Comes First by Ian Kerner and The Low Down on Going Down: How to Give Her Mind-Blowing Oral Sex by Marcy Michaels) and was able to satisfy Brooke this way on both occasions. This was evident not only from her words of praise after the fact but from the sounds she emitted during the act.
It was I, in another rare moment of courage, who first brought up the possibility of marriage. I had expected to be shut down immediately, but surprisingly was not. My second book had just been released -- the one about ritualized shame and humiliation in medieval literature -- and was well received. I'd been informed by my department chair that my prospects for receiving tenure were excellent. This meant long-term job security. I was living in a townhouse, but had saved up sufficient money to make a substantial a down payment on a larger, standalone home. Therefore, I was able to offer Brooke some stability and a higher standard of living than what she had been used to. We genuinely enjoyed each other's company. The imbalance in our relationship -- me worshiping the ground she walked on -- worked for both of us.
When I finally mustered the courage to propose to her -- on bended knee, naturally, expensive ring in hand -- she initiated what I can only describe as a very pragmatic conversation. I stayed on my knees for its duration.
"Walter, I really like you. You are kind, selfless, devoted. You clearly love me. I love your mind. Your body, on the other hand, is a different story altogether. You're pretty talented with your tongue. With practice, I'm sure you can get better. But I need much more than that. Do you understand?"
"Yes, Brooke."
"What do you think that means?"
